


John the Revelator

by codeineandkeanu



Category: John Wick (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - John Wick (Movies) Setting, Assassins & Hitmen, BAMF John Wick, Cheeky John Wick, Continental Hotel (John Wick), Dead Bad Guys, Death, Developing Relationship, Eventual Relationships, F/M, First Meetings, Fluff, How Do I Tag, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, John Wick (Movies) References, John Wick - Freeform, Movie: John Wick: Chapter 2, Original Character(s), Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Alternating, Post-John Wick (2014), Post-John Wick: Chapter 2 (2017), Post-John Wick: Chapter 3 - Parabellum (2019), Protective John Wick, Slow Burn, Smut, Violence, sensitive john wick, soft John Wick
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-09
Updated: 2021-02-04
Packaged: 2021-03-13 08:27:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28650534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/codeineandkeanu/pseuds/codeineandkeanu
Summary: It was just a second that you had looked away from John Wick.Just a second, and almost as quickly as he had appeared, he had vanished.- Revelator (Noun); Any agent in a revelation [...] revealing or disclosing some form of truth or knowledge. One who reveals.
Relationships: John Wick & You, John Wick/Original Female Character(s), John Wick/Reader, John Wick/You
Comments: 33
Kudos: 49





	1. A man walks into a bar...

**Author's Note:**

> I'm hoping to make this a series, but I'm one of these people who can literally only thrive off someone needing me to do something or I'll give up. So, if you like it, then let me know because otherwise I'll think no one cares and I'll give up. I'm not giving too much away right now though.Thanks in advance for validating me haha.
> 
> \- Currently set prior to the events of John Wick 2. I will be incorporating events past that, but there will be AU, because what is fanfic otherwise?

You got lucky that night.

Working the Casino looked glamorous from the outside to unwitting punters, the ones who came in blindly thinking they knew all the tricks of the trade, spending cash and building up a heavy bar tab without ever making a cent back.

 _‘Can’t pay your tab sweetheart, lose all your cash? Don’t worry, follow my friend Michail here through the door marked ‘No Entry’, and he would be happy to come to an arrangement with you.’_ They don’t see too much appeal after that unless they’re very brave or very stupid.

It wasn’t glitz and glamour, it was cheap drinks and rigged games and a cover for the dealings that no one talked about, but everyone knew about. It was high heels and short dresses, big earrings and red lipstick, it was getting groped and pretending to be okay with it as a 20 dollar bill was slipped into your back pocket; it was a thankless job.

While on one hand it was alluring to dress up pretty and entertain customers every shift, spending your time smoking cigarettes with them under neon lights, making them feel like they were obliged to spend more money; the other hand was less transparent. The tips were good however there were occupational hazards, ones that were not as clear to you, green as you were, in your first month of waiting tables in the City Casino. You couldn’t have known that the woman approaching you was about to throw you a curveball.

“Missy,” this was your alias, a pretty name for a pretty waitress, “There’s a man on table seven and he’s requested your service tonight.” Your manager Cherry informed you as you set a tray of empty glasses stop the bar for cleaning.

“Cherry, oh I’m so sorry… I’m not sure I can take table seven too, I already have two, nine, fourteen, sixteen –“ You began before Cherry cut you off with a curt laugh, one that made you feel stupid.

“Honey, you misunderstand me. I sometimes forget that you’re so new. No, no, this man wants your personal services… upstairs. There’s a reason City Casino and City Casino Hotel are owned by the same people.” She made a tsk sound as she clicked her tongue and shook her head.

“Wait you mean sleep with him?” You ask her blankly, not liking where the conversation was going at all. Being groped was one thing, suddenly it began to play on your mind that taking this job over the 7-11 may not have been your smartest idea after all.

“No I mean sing him lullabies and sit with him until he falls asleep, what did you think, Missy? For goodness sake look around you, we’re just whores on a payroll. Go to table seven now, he’s wearing a green suit and he smells like chemicals. Besides, I’m sure you’ll get a good tip if you act like you’re enjoying yourself.” Cherry rolled her eyes and walked away.

Your thoughts raced as you turned back to the bar and pushed yourself up onto a stool, resting your elbows on the glossy marble counter as you held your head in your hands in exasperation. Quickly you snuck a look back over your shoulder at table seven. It was easy enough for you to pick out the man Cherry had described, and you heaved out a sigh of both frustration and disgust. How could you possibly have been this stupid not to see that wearing four-inch heels was a uniform requirement for a reason? You snapped back to reality when two glasses were set down on the bar in front of you.

“He likes Bourbon. The other is for you, you’ll need it.” The man who had set down the glasses was staring at you intently through deep brown eyes, loose dark hair framed his jaw and he wore a pristine suit as black as the night. He was standing, leaning against the bar alone and without a drink of his own. He was the type of man you wouldn’t have minded requesting your ‘personal service’, he looked clean and you could smell an expensive cologne as he had placed the glasses down in front of you with deft hands.

“Thanks.” You said as you shook your head, still reeling over the idea of having obligatory sex with the man on table seven just because he said so. You picked up the glass, studying its intricate pattern and breathing in the scent of the liquid before glancing back at the stranger. “What a shame he doesn’t look like you. Would’ve made my job an awful lot easier.” 

“No, it wouldn’t.” He was stoic, but he seemed amused at the notion of your compliment, “While I’m flattered, doing anything against your own will as part of your job will always be undesirable.”

“I didn’t know this was part of the job.” You quickly knocked back the dark liquid before taking a deep breath in and out, almost slamming the glass down on the counter.

“Then find a new job.” He said coarsely, like it was easy. Like you hadn’t already weighed up the pros and cons of choosing to work in what now appeared to be a glorified gentleman’s club over earning a couple of dollars an hour at the convenience store. Money always won.

“Thanks for the drink, and the advice, Captain obvious.” You slid down from the stool and shot him a look, for a moment your eyes met, and you wondered why something so sophisticated was sitting in a well disguised dump like the City Casino. He was far too classy, far too good for this scene.

“You’re welcome, and it’s John Wick.” He called after you as you turned your back, walking reluctantly to table seven with the other glass of Bourbon in your hand. You’d heard the name before in passing since working at the Casino, but other than that you couldn’t place him and didn’t recognize his face. You’d have remembered a face like that one.

As you approached you hid the look of reluctance that was painted across your face under a fake smile, thinking that really you had no other choice; fuck the man or lose your job, it was as simple as that. With bills and insurance and living costs to pay for it couldn’t be the latter. It would have been nice, you thought, to have been told about this seemingly unspoken part of the job. You felt as though you could only blame yourself for being in this mess.

Finally, you admitted to yourself that deep down you knew there was something off about working here, including (though not limited to) the under the table deals and the blocks of cocaine exchanged in the private booths. Of course, this place wasn’t a regular casino stroke bar, of course this place had ties to the street gangs and the mafia and of course, you looked to be heading towards a man who had his hands in some illegal dealings. Shaking off the thought that he wanted to have his hands on you, you offered him the glass of bourbon with an outstretched arm as you reached the table, your smile not half as convincing as you needed it to be.

“Come closer kitten,” he drawled in an accent you couldn’t make out but seemed entirely fake, “Sit with me, on my knee.”

You sighed internally and carried on the act, forcing a smile and pretending to be interested in the game of cards his table played while staying silent all the while. You couldn’t help but notice that John Wick was still sat at the bar without a drink of his own, watching intently.

“Game over. Very good, and commiserations to the rest of you. I will collect my winnings from the cashier later. Good evening gentleman.” The man with the odd accent bade the table farewell and motioned for you to stand by squeezing your thigh tightly, waking you from a trance where your eyes were locked on the man at the bar.

It was just a second that you had looked away from John Wick.

Just a second that you looked back over your shoulder, at the man who was paying for your time, as you stood up and straightened out your dress…

Just a second, and almost as quickly as he had appeared, John Wick had vanished.

You tried to ignore the fact that it felt as though all eyes were focused on you as you were herded through the room to a rear door, this door connected the casino to the hotel via an elevator. You stepped inside it with the man, and he pushed a button for the seventh floor.

“Seven is my lucky number, you know.” He smiled, a hand at the small of your back and a walking cane in the other, though he did not limp. He was taller than you by about a half foot and he was a little built up, but not with muscle.

“It must be mine, too.” You played along, grinning falsely and hating yourself for it, “What do I call you by the way, you haven’t told me your name...?” 

“You can call me Mr Riguez,” He hummed a laugh as he moved his hand lower, touching your ass through your dress and sending a cold chill up your spine as the elevator pinged to a halt. “Room number 77, if you would my dear.” He ushered you on through the corridor and toward the room. The repetitive pattern on the carpet made you think of the hotel in The Shining, where Jack Nicholson loses his mind and starts trying to kill his wife. You shook the thought away from your mind as Mr Riguez swiped his card and motioned you forward into the room.

The thought crossed your mind that he wasn’t inherently ugly, he did however carry a strange aroma, it was of chemicals just like Cherry had mentioned. You decided that he reeked of the smell of cooking meth.

The rooms were nothing fancy, equipped modestly with a kettle and single serve sachets of coffee and sugar, as well as a small fridge, bed and bathroom with a shower over the bathtub. You looked around in silence and distracted yourself with anything you possibly could in an attempt to take your mind away from the man who had hung a do not disturb sign on the door handle, taken off his shoes and hung up his coat.

“Would you like me to open a beer for you, I think there are some in the fridge…” You offered, trying to stall in any way possible as nauseas sensation hit the back of your throat.

“No, I’ll pour myself something stronger. I’d like you to get on the bed and take off your clothes.” Mr Riguez smiled at you, flashing a silver tooth and resting his cane against the drawer at the side of the bed.

This was it, you thought anxiously.  
You reminded yourself that it would be over soon.  
That it was only temporary.  
That it didn’t make you any less of a person.  
That it was just work.

Removing your slip dress was easy enough, so you did that first before sitting on the bed and sliding off your shoes.

“I’m not here to play around with undressing you,” Mr Riguez said as he turned back to you with a bottle of something in his hand, “I’m not about savoring the moment.”

“Of course…” You said quietly, swallowing the lump that had formed in your throat as you moved to lie back on the bed, hands reaching back for the clasp of your bra while the man clambered onto the bed on his knees; bottle still in hand.

“You are a pretty one though, of course all the girls here are pretty, but I haven’t tried you yet…” He began talking, you weren’t paying any attention to his words as he rambled on. Talking about beautiful women and about how it’s all really an illusion. Instead you looked through him as coarse fingers brushed your bra out of the way impatiently when your shaking hands had finally managed to unhook the clasp. You looked over his shoulder at an obscure picture hanging on the wall, trying to remain distracted, trying to keep your mind busy.

But something did distract you, the door to room 77 was opening slowly and incredibly quietly; though Mr Riguez wouldn’t have heard it over the sound of his own voice even if it was making a noise. You remained silent and with your eyes fixed on the door, almost too stunned to make a noise, when a figure appeared soundlessly through the opening. 

Holy fucking shit, you thought as you realized it was the man from the bar. John Wick brought a finger to his lips, looking from you and then to the man towering over you, the man who was about to reach into his suit trousers. You began to back up against the bed, your attention moving back to Mr Riguez for a moment.

“What’s the problem girl? You are aware I’ve paid for this right?” It was clear to see that he was getting increasingly more frustrated with the lack of attention you’d been paying to him.

“Absolutely,” You replied, your breath raspy as you continued to back up, “I just needed to sit up for a second, I’m feeling a little woozy, it.. it’s nothing personal.” 

“This is.” John Wick grunted as he drove a knife straight into the man’s back, securing him in place with an arm around his neck as he struggled. Mr Riguez clawed at John’s arm as the life bled out of him, blood oozing from his mouth in a gurgle that sounded like he was trying to call out for help, but the attempt was pointless.

Your hands had already clapped over your mouth in shock, but you didn’t scream. Instead you watched as John let the man fall to the floor, checking that he was completely limp before turning his attention to you. 

“You killed him.” You gushed stupidly, grabbing hold of a pillow to cover yourself.

“Thank you for that, Captain Obvious. Told you you’d be needing that drink.” He replied coolly and was apparently completely unphased by killing a man, “You’re safe, you should leave.”

“Why did you kill him?” Was your next question as you continued to sit there, dumbfounded and with your mouth agape.

“I’m an assassin, killing is in my job description.” Was his only answer, “Why didn’t you scream?”

“I – I’m not sure. I guess you didn’t seem like you were after me, I guess you didn’t scare me.” You stuttered.

“Good. Come on, get dressed… Missy?” John picked your dress up from the floor and looked questionably at the name badge pinned to it.

“Sounded better than my real name.” You snatched the dress from him with shaking hands, eyes locked with his own as you rushed to put your bra back on.

“I won’t hurt you.” John Wick was solemn and composed, even as he stood there with the warm, damp blood of another person spattered on his suit jacket.

“What if they think it was me?” You asked slipping the dress over your head and flattening it out, you slipped your shoes on before standing up, legs still trembling from the shock.

“Stop shaking, take a drink of that.” He pointed to the bottle that had fallen out of Mr Riguez’s hands as he struggled, “You have to follow me out and go home. They won’t think it’s you.”

“Okay.” You nodded, somehow trusting this perfect stranger after watching him kill a man without a word exchanged. If anything, you were fascinated, you had been from the moment you set eyes on him at the bar. You drank from the bottle as you went, walking quickly, trying to keep pace with John in your heels as you followed him to the stairwell. John indicated for you to stay silent again when he quickly checked the stairwell in both directions, looking back and nodding when he felt it was safe to continue down.

Following him around corners was difficult as you tried to match his moves, backing up to the wall when he did as he checked the coast was clear. Once or twice you nearly stumbled past him, but a swift arm would reach out to hold you back.

“Are you expecting someone?” You whispered.

“Can’t be too careful.” Was his response as he pushed open a fire door that led onto the street on the opposite side of the entrance to the building. There was nobody in sight and finally John seemed to relax.

“So now what?” You said, shrugging your shoulders and pushing your hair out of your eyes as you stepped into the cold outside.

“You go home, you go to bed, and tomorrow you look for a new job.” John advised stoically.

“Wait…” You began, looking once more into his deep, dark eyes, “I guess I should say thank you.”

“No problem.” He nodded, turning on his heel to walk away.

“John Wick… before you leave, can I ask you something?” You called after him as he headed off down the street in the opposite direction.

Stopping to turn, he called back. “Make it quick.” He was a man of very few words.

“I’d like to see you again, under different circumstances.” It was more of a statement than a question, you realized, but it meant the same thing either way.

John laughed, “We’ll see.”

With that, he slipped off into the night as quietly as a shadow.

You got lucky that night.


	2. The Boogeyman.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You quickly learn that if you're looking for an assassin, you don't find him; he finds you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still setting the scene with this one, finding my feet with it. I'm always questioning whether what I've written is 'realistic' (relatively speaking) within the fandom I'm writing for and I honestly don't mind crit on that. Enjoy and let me know what you think!

It had been a solid 48 hours since you watched as John Wick had driven a knife into the back of a man who had paid to sleep with you. A solid 48 hours of tunnel vision as John Wick became the only thing you could focus on. 

Most normal people, you realized, would probably have called the police by now as a witness and reported him for murder. The situation you had found yourself in however, was in no way a normal situation.

The first thing that stopped you from calling the police happened at the scene of the murder, when he had told you that he was an assassin. This was your first major red flag that it wasn’t in your best interest to get on the wrong side of John Wick. The second thing, but almost equally as important to you as the first, was that he hadn’t laid a finger on you. Not only did he save you the grief of having to have sex with a man that you didn’t want to have sex with, but he even got you out of the building safely.

From what you understood, an assassin killed people because they were told to by another person. You googled the word _assassin_ , just to be sure of course, and you weren’t incorrect. Among the many search results, you decided that the description of ‘An assassin is a person who commits targeted murder.’ Was the one that made you feel most comfortable with what had happened.

What you knew, so far, was that John Wick got paid to kill people, he appeared to be adept at it, and he didn’t do much talking.

He had advised you not to return to your job, since that night you had five missed calls from the City Casino landline and another three from your manager on your cell phone. You had missed a shift and thought best not to contact them to tell them you weren’t going in, you assumed that they had put two and two together and associated you with the dead man in room 77. At the same time, you wondered why (if that was true) the police hadn’t shown up to ask you any questions.

The whole thing had absolutely blown your mind. As you googled the name _John Wick_ in your pants, stuffing cheese puffs in your mouth at 1am in a real show of multitasking, you sadly realized that in a city as big as this; you’d never find John Wick the assassin. A second meeting was likely to be off the cards.

Your phone pinged, and your heart leapt, shaking you from your thoughts of John. _'Are you working?'_ Read a message sent from your friend, a gay man by the name of Ryan who you’d met at a non-religious choir group a few years back. You sighed and replied; _'No x'_

Seconds later, another ping. _'Just wondered. Are you okay, I haven’t heard from you in a few days?'_

 _'Surely you should know x'_ as your response. Ryan was a self-professed psychic, but you teased him for it because he would always refuse to read you. He said he didn’t read friends because it starts to make things complicated.

 _'Babe, it doesn’t work like that, don’t know how many times I have to tell you. I can tell something is wrong though so I’m coming over tomorrow morning before work with a coffee for you. Going to bed now, see you tomorrow.'_ You read Ryan’s response and took a deep breath in before sighing loudly. 

It was probably time to shut your eyes and go to sleep, it was probably time to stop thinking about John Wick. You settled into your bed and switched your phone to silent, stuffing it on charge and leaving it under the opposite pillow of your king-sized bed.

At 8.30am you were awoken by the sound of pounding on the door to your apartment, you dragged yourself out of bed groaning all the way to the door as your rubbed the sleep from your eyes.

“Oh my god babe, you look awful.” Ryan gasped, brushing past you and heading straight to the sofa with his paper bag from Starbucks, “Sit down, we’ve got an hour and a half before I need to make a move. Spill.”

You robotically shut the door before joining him on the seat opposite, sighing again as you accepted the coffee he placed down in front of you. “Okay Ry, see here’s the thing, I can’t tell you.”

“Can’t?” His eyebrows knitted together in confusion, “Can’t or won’t babe, there’s a huge difference.”

“I _can’t_ tell you. I can’t.” You emphasized as you took a sip of the coffee,

“You know you can trust me with anything. Are you hurt? Did something happen to you?” Ryan probed for answers, and you decided he’d have to do it all day long, there was no way you could talk about this with anyone else.

“I’m not going to say anything.” You shook your head and fiddled with a loose thread on your t-shirt, eyes gazing down at the floor for a few moments. When you glanced back up at Ryan, he was totally fixed on you, narrowed eyes scanning you top to bottom and all around. It took about a minute or two, you were about to speak when you realized what he was doing, but he got there first.

“I knew there would be a man involved, seems like a bit of a wrong place, right time situation to me. He’s different isn’t he, and dark, like a shadow… he’s not bad but it is all a bit ominous.”

“Ominous?” You asked, noticing that he had closed his eyes now and was shifting around in his seat.

“Yes ominous, like something worrying is associated with this man, however not malicious… You don’t know much about him, do you? I can see that he knows a thing or two about you, but he’s a tough one to crack, doesn’t give much away. You might want to check your phone.” Ryan’s eyes snapped open and he looked around at your hands and on the table for you cell phone.

“Check my…” You paused, remembering you’d left it charging, “Ryan, you said you didn’t read friends.” 

“I know hon, but I just had to. You tell me everything.” He was smiling, smiling as if to say that you owed him a story now that he’d ‘read you’, or read John. You weren’t sure which. You stood up, almost spilling your coffee in haste as you rushed to the back of your apartment and slipped through the bedroom door, picking up your phone with almost shaking hands.

There was a text message.

_‘You won’t find me on Google.’_

It felt like your heart had caught in your throat. How did he know that you had been searching for him on the internet?

“Hey,” Ryan’s voice from the door made you jump, “What’s the good word?”

“He… he text me.”

“Now we’re getting somewhere. So where did you meet him and what were you doing to exchange numbers?”

“No, no… we didn’t exchange numbers.”

“… But he text you?” Ryan’s scrunched up his face, a look of confusion spreading rapidly, “Well what did he say?”

“He knows I’ve been googling him.” You mumbled, hitting the reply button and stalling as you searched for the right words to say.

“Honey, I think you might be unwell.” Ryan laughed nervously, until he realized that actually, you were deadly serious, “What’s his name?”  
“John…” You hesitated for a moment, “Be quiet for a second, please?” 

_’John? How did you get my number?’_ Was all that you could think to respond with. You looked back up at Ryan, finally caving in.

“His name is John Wick, and he saved me from an unpleasant situation with a customer at work. I didn’t give him my –“

“The fucking Boogeyman, and you’re not joking, are you? Oh honey, please… you don’t want to get mixed up in all of this.” His demeanor suddenly changed as he rushed into your bedroom, sitting down on the side of your bed and motioning you to sit with him.

“What are you –“ Visible confusion wash awash on your face as Ryan spoke frantically.

“Listen, I work at the morgue. I know who John Wick is because I’ve seen what he does. They call him the Boogeyman. He’s efficient, reliable and lethal and that’s why they all fear him so much.” He said it in almost a whisper, as though the walls had ears and he was afraid that someone was listening.

“So you’ve met him?” You asked, shocked that Ryan had never mentioned anything like this to you before. He lived in his own little bubble, sang at choir and played golf with the cute boys he met at the bar after work.

“God, no. It’s all talk, I hear a lot surrounded by corpses and I’m paid even more to be quiet about it. If you want baggage then just head to Terminal four at JFK sweetie, this is not for you.” He was shaking his head like he was absolutely certain that this was a road you didn’t want to head down.

“He put a knife in a guy, right in front of me. Killed him, and then he helped me get out.” You finally admitted to Ryan as the realization sunk in that he knew more about John Wick than you did; without ever having met him.

“And you’ve been looking for this guy? I know plenty of eligible bachelors-“ Ryan stopped talking when your phone buzzed in your hand.

_’IP address told me your life story. Lunch at 1pm? I can come and get you.’_

“He’s asking me to lunch…” You choked out, stunned and confused.

“Oh honey, want me to go get you a can of worms so that you can open them? Maybe a shovel, so you can dig your own grave?” Ryan tried his best to be as off-putting about the situation as possible, but it was useless. You were fascinated, even more so now that you had been before.

 _’Okay, sure. Do you need the address?’_ You typed back and hit send.

 _No._ Was the almost immediate reply from John.

Ryan looked at you and sighed loudly, his eyes rolled and he stood up. “Girl, it was nice knowing you. I’m going to prepare you a bed at the morgue during my shift today.”

“Ryan, you said yourself that it wasn’t malicious.” You protested his disapproval.

“I did. I also said it was ominous, and _then_ I found out it was John fucking Wick. Now I’m saying you’d best leave well alone, but I know you, and you are the cat that curiosity is going to kill. Besides, I read people for entertainment purposes only… I’m going to leave the Starbucks cakes for you because it might be the last thing you ever eat.” Ryan headed off into the lounge in front of you as you skipped to keep up with him.

“You’re being dramatic, Ry, stop overreacting…” You pleaded, but you knew him, he'd made up his mind about the situation already and he did not approve.

“Dramatic? Yes. Overreacting, I am not. I love you, you’re my friend, I don’t want you to get hurt. Physically or emotionally.” He tutted, annoyed that you weren't taking him seriously

“I won’t. I promise you.” It was almost a whine that escaped you lips, the kind of noise you make as a six year old, begging your Daddy to buy you the ice cream.

“I pray to God that you’re right. Call me later, please?” Ryan watched you nod to him before he closed the door behind him and left. 

Almost immediately you showered, for some reason the notion of meeting a man had you shaving every visible hair before you even realized you were doing it. Palpitations plagued you as nervousness took over, you dried off and spent forty minutes blow-drying and curling your hair as you watched the clock tick away the time. You reheated your coffee in the microwave and tried to eat some of the cakes that Ryan had left, but your stomach was in knots and you suddenly felt sick. You applied your make up slowly and were careful to keep it as natural as possible to ensure that you didn’t look like you were making too much of an effort.

Dressing took the longest, because what were you supposed to wear to lunch with a man who you’d spent all of ten minutes with and had no idea of what he liked. You decided on smart casual, picking out a checkered green shirt and a pair of dark jeans, with suede black boots and a black blazer jacket to complete. Your bank card fit perfectly into the back of your phone, so you didn’t need to take a purse.

You looked anxiously at the clock. It was 12.37 by the time you were ready.


	3. Working for the man.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John makes an offer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is a bit shorter, sorry it's taken me time to update. If you' e made it this far, then feel free to follow my tumblr at deputyrevelator if you don't already.

The car that pulled up to the front of your apartment building was slick and dark, just like the man in the driver’s seat. He was wearing a tan leather bomber jacket over a dark cotton shirt, with dark blue jeans. He caught sight of you and waved a hand as he opened the door and got out of the vehicle, leaving the door open and motioning you forward.

“Hello again.” He spoke first, squinting in the warm afternoon sun that beat down on you.

“Hi, John Wick, nice to see you in less awkward circumstances.” A smile crept across your lips as you drank in the sight of him, he was gorgeous, even more so in the daylight than he was under the glowing neon’s at the bar.

“It is. I’m sorry to have barged in on you like that, though it seems I did you a favor.” He said coolly, scanning you with his eyes, you hoped he was thinking the same thing that you were as you stood in front of him with less make up and four inches shorter than the night you met.

“You did do me a favor, I owe you.” You agreed, not really knowing what else to say to John regarding the matter of the dead man.

“You don’t…” He made a noise that almost sounded like a laugh as he shook his head seriously, you wondered what it meant to owe something to someone like John Wick. “Hop in.”

You did as he instructed, being careful not to slam the door too hard when you got inside. “Where are we headed?” Inside the car was cool and fresh and so surprisingly clean, he was clearly very proud of his car, and he had clearly spent a lot of money on it.

“Pier 26 on Hudson. City Vineyard, all good?” John asked as he started the engine and the car purred into life.

“Sounds great.” You smiled, but as John put his foot down to speed off from the curbside, you found yourself grabbing hold of the passenger side door as you were thrust back in the seat.

This time, John did laugh, “Too fast?” 

“I wasn’t expecting it.” You lied, gathering some composure and sitting up straight in the seat, “Crept up on me a bit, like your text message.”

“Sorry for the short notice.” John apologized, though his baritone voice made it sound insincere.

You chuckled when he didn’t immediately catch your drift, “I meant I wasn’t expecting you to find my number.”

“Your IP address, like I said… you searched for my name a number of times online and you didn’t think I’d find that out? It led me right to your apartment. Be more careful online.” He softly warned you, but you could tell there was an air of seriousness to it.

“I had a few missed calls from the Casino.” You added after a pause, looking at John to see what his reaction would be.

“Keep on missing them.” He said, his face remained unchanged, but when he took a second to glance over at you, you could see there was a warmth in his eyes.

“Sure…” You grinned, you didn’t have a clue what this was or where it was going, but you were certain of one thing; John Wick wasn’t as frightening as you’d been led to believe.

Silence fell between the two of you and John turned the radio up, you weren’t sure of the song or the artist that was playing but it was some kind of janky guitar rhythm with a catchy drumbeat.

You listened quietly until the drive was over and John pulled up a short walk from the City Vineyard. After allowing him to deal with the formalities at the door, you were led to the rooftop and shown to a table overlooking the Hudson. John didn’t sit down until you did, you noticed, and hid your smile by picking up a drinks menu and holding it in front of your face; pretending to look at it.

“Not wasting any time?” John asked as you realized you were looking at the section where the hard liquors were listed.

“I was curious.” You lied, “Still am, actually.”

He paused for a moment, thinking, he realized that it wasn’t the drinks menu you were curious about, “Curious… about this?”

You smiled. “Yes, about this.”

He brushed your comment off quickly. “Let’s have a drink first. Order what you want, I’ll be paying.”

“That won’t be necessary…” You suddenly switched, thinking that if John was to foot the whole bill, it made you look like you were expecting it.

“You’re unemployed.” He said bluntly.

You scoffed, relaxing a little as you realized he was making fun of you. “Wow, Captain Obvious strikes again. I’m going to need some ice for that burn. I think you’re forgetting that you’re the reason I don’t have a job.”

John raised his eyebrows quizzically at this, “Okay, should I have waited until you returned to the bar?”

Defeated at the implication that his help wasn’t needed that night, you sighed. “Well played.” 

The waiter came to take a drinks order, John asked for water and a glass of their best bourbon, you chose a sweet rose wine and assumed they would bring a small glass, but it was large.

For around an hour you talked back and forth, John’s sentences remained short and snappy and you avoided touching on the subject of the murder altogether for now. You talked about trivial things, like what you liked and didn’t like, music and film, countries you wanted to visit and where you last took a holiday.

John asked for some food for you to pick at as you talked, insisting you decide on something too, you ended up choosing a few small plates between you, and a second glass of wine (that you didn’t remember asking for) came out with them.

After a moment of quiet as you watched John looking out over the river, he sighed. “Anyway, there was something I wanted to ask you.” John was eventually ready to get to the point of your meeting, though you had been enjoying everything else about it.

You shifted in your seat, curiosity taking hold of you. “Sure. Go ahead.” 

“I have a vacancy for a housekeeper. I need someone trustworthy while I’m working. Sometimes I’m away for a day or two, sometimes at short notice. I have a dog so there would also be walks, cleaning, feeding...” 

Your eyebrows knitted together in confusion. “Are you asking me if I know anyone?”

“I’m asking you if you’d do it.” John said simply.

You stuttered, not really knowing what to do or say next. You hadn’t expected John’s invitation to lunch to turn into a job offer. “Well… I –“

“I’ll pay you $25 an hour.” He cut in sharply, his eyes fixed on you as though he was reading your reaction.

You kept deflecting, unsure of what to think or say. “That’s a lot of money for a housekeeper John.”

“A housekeeper in Mill Neck.” John added. You wondered if name dropping where he lived was a tactic because of how well to do you had to be to live there. It didn’t surprise you at all the he was living in such an expensive part of New York.

“What happened to your last housekeeper?” You kept on trying to distract from his offer, probing for more information, but in the back of your mind you also wondered if his last housekeeper was dead or alive.

“Never had one before.” John resolved.

“Then how have you managed so far?” You began to wonder if you were asking too many questions.

“I was retired, I had the time. Now I’m working again.” He offered his explanation with a shrug, and you got the feeling that he was leaving part of it out.

“So were talking things like make your bed, do your laundry, fold your clothes, empty your trash, dust and dishes, get groceries etcetera, and look after the dog?”

“I’ll make a list.” John said simply.

“I don’t know, John.” You sighed and looked over at the Hudson thoughtfully, “I worry that I’m getting myself mixed up in something.”

“I understand. I can assure you, in my line of work, there are no loose ends. You’d be my housekeeper; it would start and end there. No getting mixed up.” John answered, a pause followed as you picked apart the practicalities.

The more you thought about it, the more impractical it became. “I really don’t know John… Mill Neck, I mean it’s kind of far for me to go.”

“You don’t drive?”

“I don’t have a car. It’s a great offer John, but I live in the city and getting to and from Mill Neck is going to be a nightmare, can’t cycle it –“ You were about to reel off a list of reasons why this wasn’t going to work out, but John Wick was determined.

“Get as far as Syosset and I’ll pick you up when I’m not working or you can take a cab from there and I’ll cover it.” John wasn’t letting you find any excuse not to take this job.

You sighed, swishing the wine in your glass around in a circle before necking back the last swill. “John, have you considered just hiring someone local? You’re hemorrhaging money for a god damn cleaner.”

“No. I’d like it to be you. I can afford it.”

“Why?” You finally asked, flatly and with a bit of gusto. John Wick could get anyone he wanted to clean his house, why you?

John lowered his voice to something of a whisper. “You saw what happened and you still trusted me, I respect that.” 

“I didn’t say I was cool with what I saw –“ You almost broached the subject of the dead man, but John scoffed, cutting you off sharply.

“Yet here you are sipping wine, eating fries, dressed up like you’re on a date. Did you think I wouldn’t notice?” John looked at you with eyes that said _’gotcha’_ , and he did, you were eating out of the palm of his hand. You were dangerously interested in this man, and your interest was only amplified by his charm and his looks. 

“When?” You asked.

“My work doesn’t have a clear schedule so neither do I. For now, let’s look at midday onwards for a few hours a day, no more than six unless I need you. No weekends unless I need you.” John leaned forward and folded his arms, studying you as you thought about it.

You did the math quickly in your head, six hours times 25 equals 150, times that by five gave you $750 a week, times that by four weeks was $3000. Your apartment came in at $1400 a month including bills, with groceries on top of that you were looking probably looking at expenditure of $1800, with an additional $400 to travel. It left you with an ample $800 a month based on your estimate.

Nodding, you finally caved. “Alright John Wick, you’ve got yourself a housekeeper, but I’m putting myself on a job trial first; I’ve never done this before.”

“I know. I’m sure you’ll be fine.” A small smile curled at the side of his mouth and you wondered how much John actually knew about you. He held his hand out across the table, palm open, he wanted to shake on it. It was the first time that you’d really looked at his hands, noticing his bruised and scabbed knuckles as your hand met his, closing together to shake on the deal. You wondered how many people those hands had killed, they were warm and strong, his grip was firm but to you it felt strangely comforting. It felt safe. “I’m busy tonight, so I can’t give you a tour, tomorrow?”

“Sure. Meet you at Syosset?” You asked.

“No, I’ll come get you. Show you the route, it’s a good drive.” John smiled in return.


	4. The Long Game.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In preparation for your new job role, you take a guided tour of the Wick household.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies in advance for take two weeks to get this out there, again it's not proofread so please excuse any silly mistakes. Find me on Tumblr @ codeineandkeanu to keep in touch and I'll happily follow back!

You could have sat there for hours drinking sweet wine in the afternoon sunshine with John Wick, you would have happily stayed there into the night. In your imagination you pictured it, as the sky grew darker, fairy lights and candles lit up the space around you. They reflected in the Hudson and shimmered like fireflies, they reflected in your wine glass and danced like spirits intertwining, they reflected in John’s eyes; lighting up the mysterious soul that hid behind them.

Only you snapped back to reality, and you weren’t still drinking wine at the bar with your savior-turned-employer. You were waving a silent goodbye to him through tinted windows from the steps of your apartment building where he had dropped you off. As his car rolled away, you guessed he probably hadn’t seen you wave to him like a schoolgirl with a crush, but then the sound of his car horn filled the air and he sped off around the corner.

You smiled to yourself as you fumbled getting the keys in the lock and wondered if by going to bed early you’d make tomorrow come any faster. _Of course not, that isn’t how time works you idiot, don’t be such a fool._

Your evening was occupied by a handsfree phone call to Ryan as you dashed about the apartment in a productive mood. You’d already picked out what you were wearing tomorrow, you tried to tell Ryan but his response was, _’Not interested sorry babe, just make sure you’ve picked out the clothes you want to wear to your funeral as well’_. He wasn’t taking your decision to ignore his advice lightly.

Of course, tomorrow did come eventually after what felt like hours of pottering about doing things that you wouldn’t normally so in an effort to make time pass.

John picked you up as agreed, and it was another beautiful day, making the drive an enjoyable one as he had said it would be. The windows were rolled down and his hair blew in the breeze, the air wafting the scent of him across you every so often, it was spicy and musky and you couldn’t help the fact that you wanted to grab him and drink it all in. He was too much of everything, tall, dark and handsome and surprisingly amusing, you cruised down the highway like it was nothing, like it was perfectly natural; like you’d been doing this for _years_.

Your first thought about the house in Mill Neck was that it was like something out of an episode of _MTV’s Cribs_ , it was an awesome size considering just one man and his dog lived there.

“Come on.” John encouraged you out of the car, clearly aware of the awestruck look painted across your face, and although he tried to be humble there was definitely a smile playing on his lips. You approached the house from the driveway, and in the glass at the door could see John’s dog whipping about excitedly at his master’s return.

“What’s his name?” You asked as John opened the door, letting the dog rush to him for attention before ruffling the scruff of his neck playfully.

“Dog.” John replied flatly as Dog turned his attention to you, taking a sniff at your legs and shoes with his tail wagging furiously.

“Of course it is.” You snorted a laugh as you followed John into the kitchen, the room was so large and bright, everything was clean and everything had its place.

“I guess we’ll give you a tour…” John began, opening the fridge and pulling out a glass bottle of something fizzy, “Soda? Could use something with ice on a day like this, you can just help yourself to whatever in future.” He offered, taking two glasses and filling them a third of the way with ice before setting a glass and bottle down on the counter closest to you.

“Thank you, but you know I’m never not going to ask first, right?” You tried to be polite, carefully pouring the drink over ice, hoping that you wouldn’t spill any despite you bar tending skills.

A thoughtful, low _hmmm_ sound escaped from John’s throat in response.

“What? What’s ‘ _hmmm_ ’?” You asked, copying his low drawl and dragging a smile across his lips as you did.

“That’s a combination of anxiety and uncertainty. You don’t trust me one hundred percent. You think I’m just saying ‘help yourself’ to be polite, and that if you do in fact _help yourself_ , I’ll think you’re exploiting my kindness.” John mused effortlessly.

Your response was a noise this time, though it sounded more like a confused _uhhh_ sound.

“That tells me you’ve fallen foul of dishonesty a few times, by people who have taken advantage of your own kindness.” John continued.

You chuckled quietly, “Are you docking my wages for personal counselling sessions?”

“You can trust me. I promise.” John took a drink from his own soda and sighed before pointing ahead through a doorway and changing the subject completely, “Okay so… this way takes you into the living room…” 

You wandered about on the lower level of John’s house, he pointed out where the laundry room was and showed you the door that led down to the basement. He explained the heating and electrical systems, and mentioned that he has a window cleaner on the last Friday of the month so that you weren’t spooked by him, and that there was a local lady that delivered fresh milk and eggs from a nearby farm. He showed you to the garage and the pantry and had you try the alarm system so you knew how that worked, and he showed you where he kept movies and records should you ever get bored.

When you’d covered the downstairs and ended back up in the hallway, you noticed a picture of a woman siting on a side table. She was very beautiful, and curiosity took over you as you picked up the photo frame and studied her closer. “Who is this…?”

“My wife.” John’s expression became sullen, for a second you thought he may have snatched the picture from your hands, instead he looked at his ring finger and at the feint tan line where a ring used to be. “She died some time ago. She was sick.”

“Oh God,” Instant regret washed over you like a wave, “I’m so sorry John.” Gently you placed the picture back down on the side table, looking nervously at John as you did, regret awash on your face for asking. Of course, you couldn’t have known who she was or that asking would elicit such a grim memory, you kicked yourself for not noticing the mark on his ring finger sooner. You watched John in thought as he seemed lost, studying his left hand. Your attention moved instead to the cracked scabbing on his knuckles, which led you to a graze on his arm just by his elbow before you became lost yourself in the shape of him.

“It’s fine. No harm done.” John shook his head, breaking the awkward silence, but paused when Dog walked happily up to you with his tail swooshing back and forth, he dropped a tennis ball by your feet enthusiastically. “I think he wants to show you the garden.”

Your tour moved outside into the warm fresh air of the idyllic setting that was Mill Neck. It seemed almost unreal how John had this double life, he came across as smart and respectable – and he was, there was no denying that fact. You wondered how he had got to where he was, had he just fallen into the business of killing or was there more to this so-called _Boogeyman_ than met the eye? Your speculation quickly moved to why you were even there in the first place. After a lovely lunch that had _definitely felt_ life a date, you were now in John Wick’s garden, drinking a soda, about to become his employee. How did you get from there to here?

John’s house was so beautiful and perfect, but it was also immaculate, he seemed to think he needed a housekeeper; but for what? You threw the tennis ball as far across the lawn as you could, not knowing where John’s garden ended and the public grounds began, and you spoke as the both of you rested against the wall. “Why are you doing this, John?”

“What?” He asked, looking at you with an expression that gave away no secrets.

“Are you really looking for a housekeeper or are you just…. lonely?” You suggested cautiously, hoping not to offend him.

He sighed, almost as if he expected this to come up at some point. “I’m looking for a housekeeper.”

“You seem to be handling it, your house is spotless.” You pointed out, shrugging as you did.

“Not all the time.” John quickly rebuked. 

He certainly was difficult. “John, please… don’t you have friends?”

He pursed his lips and thought about that one for a moment before shaking his head. “Not in my line of work.”

“Hobbies?” You asked, drawing out the word as you clutched at straws, and he could absolutely tell that you were clutching at straws.

He thought for a moment before answering. “My car… and I bind antique books. What about you?”

“What?” You replied, a little caught off guard.

“Your hobbies, what are they?” John repeated patiently.

“Oh, I uh, I like travelling and theatre I guess?” Was your response, not really expecting John to ask you about you as he skipped over the part where you seemingly questioned his motives.

There was a long pause as you both looked out over the grounds, the air was still and birds chirped as they flew back and forth from the lake to the trees.

“There’s one rule.” John broke the silence and looked at you, eyes fixed on yours. “The basement is private.”

“Okay.” You nodded softly and sighed. “You do realize that in Beauty and the Beast, when he tells her the west wing is off limits, she goes to check it out anyway.“

“Trying to say I’m a monster?” John interrupted, there was a more serious look in his eyes now, but he was playing along, waiting for your response.

“Underneath that monster was a Prince.” You smirked and raised your eyebrows playfully, but John saw right through you.

He clicked his tongue and sighed, “If you flirt with me again, I’ll have to issue you with a formal warning.”

“Technically I haven’t started working for you yet.”

“Are you always this impertinent?” He challenged, mocking you softly with a grin and raising his own eyebrows back at you in response.

Your smile faded, and you turned back to look over the garden. The birds still sang as they drew invisible shapes in the sky, and Dog lay panting in the grass, protecting his tennis ball. Everything about this was wrong. John Wick was handsome and kind, kind enough for someone else to have loved him so much that they married him once upon a time. He was well off owing to his very specific skill set, which hadn’t troubled you enough to make you turn around and walk away so far. You took a moment to think, he had this life, and yet here you were on the cusp of working for this man as his housekeeper. Housekeeper wasn’t what you wanted. On the day you met as he turned to walk away, you asked to see him again – your wish had sort of been granted, just not in the way that you wanted. How could you work for him when what you really wanted was to go for a picnic by the side of the lake and drink wine as the sun set? You sighed heavy and turned to him, standing up straight and clearing your throat. “John Wick, I’m really sorry, this is not going to work out.”

He paused for a moment, regarding you carefully as though he was reading your thoughts. “Why do you say that?”

You stammered as you spoke, eyes flicking nervously back and forth John and the ground. “It’s just not, you haven’t done anything wrong, I just... you should drop me off at the station. I’ll make my way back to the city; I don’t want to waste your time.”

“What changed your mind?”

“It’s just… all of you. I know I asked if I could see you again under different circumstances…”

“Which is what this is…” John cut in, speaking as though you were stating the obvious.

“No… not really. What I’m trying to say is that you can’t be my employer, John. You can’t go from mysterious stranger unintentionally saving me from a situation I really didn’t want to be in… to being my boss. I asked to see you under different circumstances, and lunch was really wonderful, but this is…” You talked quickly until you trailed off, lost for words, trying to explain yourself without sounding ungrateful.

“I get it.” John resolved. “You can’t be attracted to your boss.” He shifted his weight from one foot to the other and turned so that his back was leaning on the wall, he folded his arms and looked out in the other direction.

“I’m… I’m really sorry.” You stuttered a bit, “I didn’t want to make this awkward. I just want to be honest with you.” 

John made a ‘ _pfft_ sound, and you could have sworn you heard a low chuckle emanating from his throat. “You feel awkward?” He looked back at you, eyebrows raised, “Well I feel… foolish.”

“I’m sorry, John.” You repeated quietly, not really knowing what else to say to him, however the thought was in the back of your mind that maybe he wanted to shoot you.

“It’s my fault.” You had begun to talk over one another as he dismissed your apology, “I intended to play the long game.”

“No, you didn’t mean…” You stopped suddenly when you realized what he had said, _play the long game_ , you looked up at John for a reaction as your stomach flipped. “You… did you just say what I think you said?”

“I thought that by having you around we’d get to know each other. You’d get to know _me_. Housekeeper vacancy was plausible, with you not working… it made sense.”

You felt like a giddy schoolgirl and discreetly pinched your leg to check that you were awake. “You were doing all this so we could spend more time together?” 

“Yeah, wanted you to trust me, I should’ve been more upfront. That’s why I didn’t come right out with it at lunch, I was testing our chemistry.”

There was a long pause between you as you tried to process that John’s elaborate plan to have you work for him was all just a way for him to spend more time with you, “Now I feel even more awkward.”

“How so?” He asked, you could see him thinking as you looked into his eyes.

“Well you’ve already seen me without my clothes on so…” You began, but John cut you off with a laugh as your own lips formed a smile in response. He was so much goofier than you’d have imagined he would be after that first time you’d met him, all serious and stoic, and while it was completely unexpected; you adored it. 

“I still want you to take the job,” John continued, “You should get to know me; if that’s what you want.”

“Because of your ‘ _baggage_ ’?” You asked, John understood that you meant his baggage was killing people.

“No, the weight of what I do… I don’t carry it. That’s why you need to get to know me. I need you to see that I’m more than that.” He answered, his seriousness returning as he spoke about his work.

You nodded to show that you understood, “You don’t feel guilt?”

John sighed hard, it was obviously a difficult thing to explain but John Wick being John Wick did it in few words. “I do, but not in my work.”

“Tell me, how does something like this even work? How do you even be _an assassin_?” You said in a hushed whisper as if someone would overhear, not that there was any one around. You were pretty certain Dog wouldn’t go telling anyone.

“I’m paid to put someone down, it’s as simple as that.” John broke his eye contact with you for a moment and spoke plainly.

“Is it really?” You doubted.

“No, but to you, it is.” His answer was a very nice way of telling you that he would rather spare you the details.

“So there will be a lot of secrets?” You added, talking slowly.

He nodded.

“Will I be safe?”

John’s attention came back to you, his eyes locking with your own and making you a silent promise. “Yes.”

You nodded slowly as what felt like thousands of questions ran through your mind, questions you couldn’t ask and questions that would probably be answered in time. 

“Want to finish showing me around?” You smiled at John and his response was just a simple nod. He stood up straight and put his fingers to his lips in a triangular shape, directing a loud whistle at Dog who promptly grabbed his ball in his jaw and darted towards the sound of his master.

“After you.” He gestured toward the open door to the house and let you step in front of him first, his hand absently touching the small of you back and guiding you forward. Secretly smiling to yourself you realized one thing was certain; getting to know John Wick would be sweet torture.


	5. Stay.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You've been working for John for over a week after he revealed that he was 'playing the long game' with you - only it doesn't feel like working.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS ONE IS LONG  
> Probably full of mistakes & I'm sorry if so.
> 
> Here's your *mood list*  
> https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1wIVPB3fgHbNzVORvXd41c?si=As_mpGJpSmOpR23hyTagYw
> 
> I'm excited.
> 
> Tumble @ codeineandkeanu

Your first week working for John Wick went relatively smoothly, keeping a house clean and tidy wasn’t an overly difficult job and taking Dog for a walk was always a pleasure no matter what the weather did. You’d become firm friends, your relationship based on you throwing a ball, Dog retrieving it and being rewarded with pats and doggy jerky. In fact, Dog was the main reason you had work to do around the house, owing to all the muddy footprints and shedding fur from your twice daily walks.

Laundry was the interesting part, and anything that looked remotely like a suit piece you’d immediately put on a hot wash to check that any stains would come out first. You learnt to do this on your first day after picking up a white shirt hastily after you had dove your hand straight into the pile, fingers closing around something damp and sticky, before you had even released your grip you knew it was blood. Heat pricked at the back of your neck and your mouth salivated as if you were going to throw up, but you took a deep breath in and stood up. Keeping your own arm as far out from you as you could, you rushed to the sink and turned on the hot tap without looking, blindly pressing the soap dispenser as the water began to turn painfully hot, the metallic smell of blood rising within the steam made you heave as it hit your nose. You hoped it wasn’t John’s blood.

Throw away rubber gloves became your new best friend, after Dog, who often sat watching you as you worked, probably wondering when his next walk would be as there didn’t seem to be any structure to your day. Often, John would pick you up from the station and return to bed, his evenings in that first week seemed to be busy. On the fifth morning, the Friday before you’d take the weekend off, he’d even picked you up from your apartment as he’d stayed in the city. Conversation on that drive to Mill Neck was scarce, but what was said marked the first time that John had talked to you about the night before, because you could tell he was in pain even if he didn’t want to show it. Five terrifyingly simple words. “I was stabbed last night.”

“Are you okay, and do you want to tell me anything else?” Was your response.

“No.” Was his.

That was another one of those mornings where he’d returned to bed for a few hours when you had arrived at his home. When he woke in the afternoon he was dressed in dark cotton lounge pants and a grey jumper, you handed him a coffee and noticed his mood was completely different, as if nothing untoward had ever happened at all. That afternoon he greeted you with a smile, and the second in a series of firsts that day, he kissed you gently on the cheek. 

“I’m sorry if I seemed cold this morning. It’s not personal.” His apology was sincere, not like the kind of apology that someone gives because they feel an obligation to do so. “Sit with me for a bit.” He pulled up the stool at the breakfast bar next to him and patted it, ushering you to sit down.

“Sure.” You did as he asked, getting up onto any bar stool was always a bit of a struggle when you were short, so you had to push yourself up using the counter and the footrest. Once settled, you took a sip of your tea and looked at John, wondering what it was he wanted.

“I wondered if you’d like to do something with me tonight, just us, no work.” John asked.

“I’d really like that, but aren’t you in pain?” You asked, not even sure where exactly it was he’d taken a stab wound and looking him up and down for clues.

“I’m okay. It’s like a papercut to me, really.” John said modestly, you wanted to roll your eyes and wondered if this was just a case of him trying to act _manly_ , but you realized that there was every possibility he was telling the truth. You began to wonder how many times John Wick had been stabbed.

“Show me.” The way you said it was almost a challenge, as if you were questioning his credibility on the matter.

“No.” He shook his head, smiling at your curiosity. “I don’t want you to-“

“What if something happens and I need to help you?” You refuted. It was a valid point, you thought, if he potentially had a wound that could reopen or become infected how could you help him if you didn’t know how bad it was?

“I saw a doctor last night at the Continental.” John tried to reassure you, “It’s not serious.” 

Your eyebrows knitted together at his words. “The Continental? That big old hotel in the city? It’s got a doctor?”

“It does, a doctor for people in my line of work.” John nodded and took a sip from his coffee.

“How many people like you are there?” You asked him flatly, realizing that of course John was one of many, but exactly how many?

“There’s a lot of people in my line of work, there’s no one _like me_.” 

Your eyes rolled as you clicked your tongue and sighed. “You’re so sure of yourself aren’t you?”

“I am.” He smiled at you, coyly and confidently before changing the subject. “So, tonight?”

“What did you have in mind?”

John stood and stretched, he began clicking various joints on purpose and making you cringe slightly as he groaned in relief, ending by cracking his neck loudly before he replied. “Get something to eat at a place not too far from here, and then we could take a walk on Ferry beach?” 

“Sure, let me know when you’ve finished rearranging your skeleton and we’ll go.”

The evening came around and you couldn’t have asked for a nicer end to your week. John drove to a restaurant not far from Mill Neck. It was in Bayville, and it served the nicest grill food you’d had in a long time. You ordered Tacos, and John made fun of you for choosing a spicy pineapple margarita which was too spicy for you and made you cough.

Ferry Beach was just a three minute walk from the restaurant, so John left an extra tip with the waiter who let him stay parked there and promised to keep an eye on his car. While there was nothing exceptional about the beach itself, the walk with John was what you wanted, he even held your hand when you decided to take off your shoes and walk through the shallow of the sea where the tide met the shore.

That night was the night you realized that you were quickly becoming emotionally attached to John Wick. You wondered if that would have been okay with him, or even if it was a sensible thing to do, before realizing that there was no way of stopping it. The only way you could was to never see him again, and that wasn’t going to happen.

He drove you home that night with the windows down and the radio low, you listened to the sound of the world around you, and every so often caught each other’s gaze with a smile; John winking when you did.

Your first weekend off was spent reading books and shopping online after your pay from John had hit your account, he was paying you by the week which was helpful. Though there was a slight pang of guilt that hit with your first installment after dinner and drinks with John the night before without spending a cent. Money wasn’t even a conversation where John was concerned, his hand was in his pocket and his card was out before you could say ‘lets split the bill’. You had a feeling that John wouldn’t have agreed to that either, even if you insisted.

Ryan had text you to say he was coming to visit on Sunday, but at the last minute he cancelled, saying that work had called him in unexpectedly and therefore your day ended up being a pants and shirt day. While John was on your mind 99% of the time, you thought better of trying to call or text him, you didn’t want to seem overbearing or needy. So, it surprised you when on Sunday evening you received a text that read _‘Strange not having you around here. Dog misses you.’_

You replied, _‘And you? Do you miss me? Or just Dog?’_

_‘We both miss you. Goodnight.’_

On Monday morning you took a much earlier train to get to Oyster Bay after you’d both realized it was a closer station that Syosset, so you tested the route for the first time. You had to change stations and the journey took a little longer, but when you arrived you realized it would only take around 25 to 30 minutes to walk to Mill Neck. You decided to be impulsive, and being as you were already two hours early you figured the walk wouldn’t hurt.

Dog must have heard you approaching up the drive as he appeared in the window and barked playfully, bouncing around like a basketball. You tried to shush him worrying that he might wake John, but John was already awake, dressed and walked up to the door, opening it before you could.

“Is everything okay?” Was the first thing he said, an unmistakable look of concern in his expression at your early arrival. You noticed John’s shoes were already on and realized that the engine of his car was making quiet clicking noises as if it was cooling down, John had already been out that morning.

“Everything is fine,” You assured him as you stepped inside, “I’m just early, I went to Oyster Bay and walked up.”

He narrowed his eyebrows, “Why didn’t you call? I’m happy to pick you up.”

Waving him off, you shrugged and smiled “Sorry John, I just didn’t want to bother you, thought I’d test the walk.”

He shook his head and tried to help you with your jacket. “No, it’s not a problem. Here, give me that.”

“John I can do that, it’s fine...” He’d already got hold of the you however, so you surrendered to him pulling your jacket from your shoulders and hanging your bag up with it on the coat rack.

He stepped back, his eyes carefully regarding you from head to toe. “You look nice.”

“I’m literally sweating from the walk.” You chuckled as if you didn’t believe him.

“New clothes?” It was more of a statement than a question, but it gave you pause to remind yourself that this is why John was perfect; he noticed everything that most guys would never even give a second thought to. “Come on, I was just about to make a coffee, I’m guessing you want tea?”

“John I’ll do it…” You stopped as you rounded the doorway into the kitchen, looking over at the counter to see a large bunch of flowers, bright and blooming. A small gasp escaped you as your breath caught in your throat, you approached them and turned the gift tag hanging from the bundle, there was your name in tidy handwriting. “John, they’re so beautiful. What for?”

He moved to your side as your fingers traced the silky smooth petals on a bright orange flower you didn’t know the name of, one of his hands settled on your waist while the other tucked a flyaway strand of hair behind your ear. His eyes were fixed, focused on your own, deep dark pools that you could lose yourself in for hours. “It’s just a thank you. I understand what a strange situation I’ve put you in and I can’t imagine it’s easy for you.” 

“Thank you. Whatever this is, even though it’s a little unconventional… I like it.” You turned your attention from the bouquet to John, allowing his hand to rest at the side of your head as he gently pulled you closer to him. Close enough that your foreheads bumped together, close enough that the ends of your noses touched, close enough for him to pull you into his lips for the first time. 

It was as though the world had stopped and for just a few moments it was you and John alone, tasting one another as your tongues crashed together like waves. You were the shoreline and John was the tsunami, dragging you closer to his centre with every movement. You felt his hand touch the side of your face gently, he ran his thumb down your cheek and your heart pounded, it felt as if your skin was on fire as heat raced up your spine. When you finally broke away from each other’s lips for air, you had that same feeling that you had felt in the car days before, the feeling as though you’d been doing this for years; like it had always been you and John. When he smiled, you knew that this was where you wanted to be.

“You okay?” John broke the silence gently.

“Perfect.” You said in a breathy whisper, a smile curled at the corner of John’s lips.

“Good.” He mocked your whispery tone, his eyes lingered on you for a moment, he planted another kiss on your head gently before turning to start on the coffee and tea he had promised. There was a sweet silence as you watched him, wondering exactly how long this would go on for, hoping that at the end of it all there would be a real place for you with him.

For the rest of the day John was mostly absent, his time spent down in the basement. You hadn’t asked what he was doing down there (though not for lack of curiosity) and periodically took him coffee and water. At around five in the afternoon you told him you were taking Dog out again and he offered to join you. You let John lead with him on your walk, watching him as he threw a ball a hundred times over and played rough with his companion, the end result being that John ended up a little muddier than he’d expected. “It’s why I wear wellies and waterproofs.” You teased.

On your return to the house John excused himself to the shower. You figured it would be a good time to put the laundry on before leaving for the day, and that you could pick it back up tomorrow. John had left the laundry basket outside the door on the landing for you, the door was slightly ajar, and you could hear the shower running. For a split second the thought crossed your mind that he was in there, soaking wet and naked as the day he was born, water cascading off his chest and - _stop it, stop it now_! You shook your head and took a deep breath in and out in an attempt to regain composure, you hadn’t expected to turn around and come face to face with John on the landing, a towel wrapped around his waist, clean clothes in hand.

“Oh shit.” You whispered, blinking a few times as you tried quite poorly to hide your shock and awe at seeing John’s uncovered torso for the first time. Every part of you wanted to think that it was funny, that this was just an embarrassing moment and that the two of you would laugh about it later; but there was nothing funny about it. John Wick was toned and defined, everything that a physically fit man of his age should be, but you couldn’t break you gaze away from the scars. Some of it was aged, white and coarse looking, while some of it was rosy and fresh, it was easy enough to tell the difference between a scar from a knife wound and a scar from a bullet wound. Bruises in all shapes and sizes kissed his skin in various hues of purple, blue, black and red. The shock of it was real and the fear was overwhelming.

“I’m sorry John.” You managed, darting around him quickly, looking back over your shoulder just long enough to see that his back was the same as his front, only decorated with tattoos that you didn’t get a good enough look at before rushing down the stairs.

You dropped the laundry basket to the floor when you reached the utility room and slumped down the wall until you hit the ground yourself. This was where John found you ten minutes later, crying silently into your sleeve. You hadn’t noticed him come in, fully dressed this time but with damp hair, he sat quietly next to you with his back to the wall and rested a hand on your knee gently.

“It’s not my intention to make women cry when they see me undressed.” He spoke in a whisper, his joke enough to coax a laugh from you as you sniffed back tears and tried to dry your face. “Talk to me. Tell me what got you like this.”

You’d had time to think about it before he had finished his shower, that the fear you felt when you saw those scars was a fear for John. You were afraid that one day a bullet or a wound from a knife wouldn’t just be a scar. “All those scars and bruises, that’s all from what you do. That’s all from other people trying to kill you before you kill them.”

John took his hand away from your knee, instead taking hold of your own hand and interlocking your fingers tightly. “Yeah. I guess there’s no way to sugar coat it, and no point trying.”

You looked at him, searching his soul through his eyes. “Aren’t you ever afraid?”

“It’s hard to be afraid when everyone else is afraid of you.”

“That overconfidence is what will get you killed, John Wick.” You sniffed again, trying weakly to smile now that you’d managed to dry your eyes.

John paused for a second, thinking about words carefully. “You know what happens when you start doubting yourself? That’s when the fear kicks in. Fear of failure, fear of being out of control, of life... of losing people that you care about. It consumes you. You are afraid for me; do you know how that makes me feel?”

You shook your head in response.

“I’m grateful. Someone cares about me, isn’t frightened _of_ me but _for_ me.”

John’s words made you perk up a bit as you realized he could see that you cared about him, he valued it. “I bet your wife handled all of this better than I am.” You worried that mentioning his wife would spark a sadness, but you didn’t want to pretend like she never existed, instead you hoped that it would put John at ease. 

A relief came over you when you heard him snicker gently. “She didn’t have to, I was out for a long time”

“You went back to it?”

“I did.” John nodded slowly, almost absently. “That’s a story for another time.”

“On a lighter note, we’re almost even.” You smirked, referencing the night you first met; the night John had saved you from unwillingly giving yourself over to a man he had a hit on at the Casino Hotel. He was in the right place at just the right time, and while you had managed to cover yourself up, John had already seen everything.

“Oh _really_? Two weeks and all you’re thinking about is getting _even_?” He was smiling, biting his lower lip, and shaking his head. “I think I better take you home.” John pushed himself up from the floor and held his arm out to help you up.

Your heart skipped a little when you realized the time, and that John was right, usually this was about when you’d leave. Today you didn’t want to, today you just wanted more of him.

“I haven’t finished my work yet.” You protested as you stood, looking up at John and then back to the laundry basket on the floor.

“Don’t worry. There’s always tomorrow.” He reassured you, waving his hand as though it was no big deal to him.

You felt yourself clutching at straws, and it was become very obvious to John too. “Are you working tonight John?” 

“No…” He said, his eyebrows knitting together as he began to understand that you were stalling on purpose. “You don’t want to go home tonight, do you?”

“I know that you said that you were _playing the long game_ with us, because you don’t want to frighten me away, but I’m not… I’m not afraid.”

He nodded thoughtfully. “I know. I know you’re not afraid.”

“Then why are we doing this? Why are you paying me to come and spend time with you when I’d do it for free?” John said nothing, instead he sighed and looked away. “John? What’s the matter?”

“I gave my all and lost someone that I cared about once. I don’t want that to happen again.”

“How do you know it will?” Your words seemed to spill out before you had time to think them over.

“I don’t.” John chuckled, you realized that he knew where you were going with this after his speech.

“Exactly. What you said about doubt, you’re doing that right now. Totally contradicting yourself, Mr Self-Assured.”

“Thank you, _Captain Obvious_ , for pointing that out.” John was winning two-nil on the Captain Obvious call out.

“John… I don’t want you to keep me at arm’s length because you’re worried. I know that you know how I feel about you, and correct me if I’m wrong but dinner dates, long walks on the beach, flowers and you kissing me first… it kind of gives me an idea of where you’re at.”

“The day I buried my wife… Helen. A friend told me that; ‘ _There's no rhyme or reason to this life. It's days like today scattered among the rest._ ’ It’s true, but only when you let it be true. We can make those days as meaningful or as hopeless as we want them to be.”

You let his words ring for a moment and noticed that the sun was setting now. Its blood orange glow bounced through the kitchen windows, light refracting off the marble countertops and warming your skin where it hit. “I choose meaningful.” You decided.

“I want you to stay.” John said huskily, as though the words had been choking him and he couldn’t quite wait to get them out. This time it was your hand that gently cupped his cheek, running fingers across the rough edge of his cheek against his beard, finally touching him properly in the way that you wanted to. His strong arms pulled you into him in a secure and comforting embrace, his forehead tilted to rest against your own as you found your fingers tangled in his dark hair, still damp from the shower.

You stood there together quietly, happy just to hold one another as the shapes and colours around you shrunk and grew and changed with the disappearing sun. Closing your eyes, you rested your head against John’s chest and breathed in his scent, thinking about how you’d got from where you were to this moment, and thinking about how lucky you had been. You got lucky on the night you met John Wick, the thing about luck is that eventually, it runs out.


	6. The Sleepover.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A sleepover in which 'playing the long game' goes out of the window.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is smut. Pure smut and word porn. A whole 2029 words of it.  
> If you don't want to read smut, you can literally just skip to the next chapter when I release it.  
> If you do want to read smut, well be my guest.  
> Also, I haven't written smut in maybe 2 years, if I'm a little rusty then I apologise.

John's POV.

It started to rain that evening, the good weather that week marking the arrival of a storm on the horizon as the sky turned from orange to purple to a deep, dense grey. I had opened the balcony doors in the bedroom, although the air outside was heavy with humidity, the sound of the raindrops pattering on the ground was calming. She was sound asleep, tangled under soft linen, but for all my effort sleep couldn’t seem to find me. Morning was still hours away and I doubted that I would get any rest between now and then, and so I sat by the window watching the rain as it fell. I wondered if putting on the television would help me get to sleep but then I risked waking her up, and I couldn’t disturb her, not when she looked like that. Peaceful.

The clock read 11:14pm, part of me wondered how much faster time would go if I pulled the plug on it, instead I turned it to face the wall. As careful as I was I’m not without my faults, because at the same time I managed to knock the bottle of Branton’s bourbon that we’d be sharing onto the floor. It was capped and thankfully didn’t spill, but it made a thud like a goddamn rhinoceros. Of course, that set the dog off barking downstairs, and the sigh that escaped me wasn’t much quieter.

“John…?” Shit. She woke up.

“I’m so sorry.”

“What were you doing?”

“Got sick of looking at the damn time.” I put the bottle back on the table, wondering if I should pour another glass. “I can’t sleep.”

“Too hot?”

“It’s not that.” Climbing onto the bed and resting on my side facing her, I stroked her hair gently, twisting ringlets between my fingers. She smiled.

“You can take your shirt off, John,”

“Did you forget what happened earlier when I took my shirt off?”

“I know. I’m saying it’s okay, it wasn’t _you_.”

“Not like you can see anything…” Sitting up, I pulled the shirt up over my head, “It’s dark enough.”

Of course, she switched on the lamp with the perfect comedic timing, ambient light flooded our corner of the room.

I lay back down and for a moment we locked eyes, only she was too distracting. The sheets resting on her figure were sheer enough that I could see the shape of her, every curve and contour. She did the same as me, eyes roaming everywhere that they _could_ see, and then I got that feeling.

The feeling you get when the atmosphere changes, a stifling tension fills the air around you; you both _know_ that you want to fuck and you both _know_ that it’s about to happen. You’re just waiting on the other to instigate it.

“We’ve been doing this for weeks,” I was whispering, God knows why but I was, “I don’t think I’ve told you yet that you’re beautiful.” She smirked, as if she was shy. I knew she wasn’t.

Contrary to the adage of ‘ladies first’, there’s an unspoken expectation perpetuated by what’s considered ‘normal’ in modern society, one of those expectations is that men generally tend to make the first move. Well, she was playing that game.

After a pause, I asked;

“What are you thinking?”

* * *

“I’m wondering what you’re waiting for.” Words escaped your throat, daring and husky, you realized your mouth was dry and that your pulse was beating faster. You wondered if you were reading him right at all, if your thoughts were even on the same wavelength.

The tension was there like an overwound string on a guitar, so taught that it would snap if you were to wind it any further.

Then he moved, boldly, his fingers curled around the sheet that covered you and he pulled it back with haste. Within a heartbeat, John was looming over you, the tip of his nose grazing over your own as you came face to face. This was going to be your introduction to a side of John Wick that you hadn’t met yet.

Heat chased up your spine, prickling every inch of your skin. Your hands found their place resting on John’s back exploring the shape of his shoulders and then his waist, gently at first, but soon you found yourself pulling in him closer. You needed to feel his skin on your skin.

“I’ve been waiting for the right time, but time waits for no man…” He practically growled when he spoke. He pulled you into his lips furiously, kissing you hard and parting his lips so that you’d mirror his movement, tongue crashing into yours in a passionate rush to taste you. “I don’t want to wait any more.”

“Then don’t.” You could hear yourself practically begging him, “ _I want you John_ ”, the words eliciting a groan of approval from his throat.

John kissed you like he was breathing life into you, as though if he stopped then you would cease to be.

Electricity coursed through you when John’s fingers raked down your skin, ending at your hips and fumbling with the soft fabric of your underwear, silently urging you to help him remove them. For a brief moment he paused, his lips moving away from your own, smoldering dark eyes regarding you as you caught your breath.

“Is this okay?” He spoke in a breathy whisper; his usual deep and gravelly tone was replaced with something softer.

You nodded quickly, “Yes.”

“If you want me to –“

“Just take your pants off John, stop talking.” You hushed him as you wriggled and kicked your own underwear down your legs, eventually getting one leg out and using the other to roll them down off the other ankle.

“Gladly.” He pulled back up to his knees. For a moment it seemed as though removing clothes was a team effort as both of you took hold of the waistband, pulling at it and allowing his cock to bounce free his soft cotton trousers. 

You paused this time, panting lustily in anticipation and unable to stop staring at his core where he stood rigid amidst dark hair.

Now that you’d seen one another, the pace slowed.

John shifted forward and moved back down, arching over you and kissing you again softly and without hurry. He took hold of your hand and guided it down to his erection, letting you take hold of him before he moved hand to your centre to the heat between your legs. His fingers teased your folds, you twitched and smiled against his lips.

He stopped kissing you and edged his head back slightly, grinning when he felt the wetness that showed how eager you were to have him.

“ _You do want me, huh?”_ John’s eyes danced with mischief and lust as his fingers entered you, your back arching in response, the noise that left you was half gasp half moan. Those hands were clever and adept, finger and forefinger stroking delicately as his thumb deftly circled your clit.

You struggled to keep a decent grip on his cock thanks to the dizzying rush of his fingers inside you, eventually his other hand closed on top of yours and his fingers pushed your own around, showing you exactly where he wanted you before he set the pace.

Even John Wick showing you how he wanted you to stroke his cock was enough to make your cunt twitch to the point that you couldn’t take it anymore. You wanted more than his hands.

“Please fuck me John, please.” Begging for him wasn’t beneath you, at this point, you wanted it more than anything else. His lips curled into a smile and he removed his fingers from you abruptly, it was a smile you weren’t familiar with yet because it was devilish and _fun_.

He liked that. He _liked you begging_.

John straightened up, towering over you on the bed. “I'll fuck you, but first I want you to do something for me. I want that pretty mouth to get my cock nice and wet.”

“I’ll do anything.” You purred and pushed yourself up, John’s hands found your head, his fingers tangled in your hair as he moved closer to you on his knees.

“ _I bet you would._ ” His voice was hot and low, that same baritone sound you’d come to know from John, only this variant made your spine tingle.

Taking John’s cock in your hand you took a deep breath in and slowly licked your lips. You peppered little kisses over the tip, eventually making one slow, long lick of his shaft from top to bottom and back before taking him in your mouth with a soft moan.

You couldn’t make it all the way to the base at first as you feared you risked choking, but it didn’t seem to matter. His hips gently rocked into you as his fists closed around your hair, every so often you’d hear him making gentle, indistinct noises as a sea of sensations engulfed him.

For a second your mind wandered as you worried if you were doing well enough, you quickly pulled yourself out of those thoughts when you felt a bitter taste and a gentle tingle on your tongue from John’s arousal building.

He stopped you and pulled away, clearly letting himself wind down for a moment as he paused and relaxing from where he was kneeling to come down to your level. You could breathe fully for a moment, but it really was for just a moment until he gently climbed on top of you, strands of rogue hair falling down around his face.

You breathed heavy and he smiled before kissing you softly again, you could feel him this time, the head of his cock rubbing at your core. It made you ache as he teased and so your hands settled on his hips, pulling him closer in a silent urgency; God, you had never wanted anything so badly before in your life.

For a second you closed your eyes and all you could hear was the sound of the rain outside as it hit the ground and cascaded down the windows. Your fingers read John’s skin like it was braille, the thickened scars telling a thousand stories beneath your fingertips.

“ _John_ …” You whispered against his lips before he cut you off, breath hitching in your throat as he entered you.

It was as though a weight had been lifted as John rocked against you, every movement making you inhale sharply as breathy grunts became sweet mewls of ecstasy with every delicious thrust.

 _Harder_.

You wrapped your legs around John almost instinctively, arms coiling around his neck as you buried your face into his collar, singing your pleasure against his skin.

 _Faster_.

Dissolving into one another as the world around you faded into nothing, his fingers roughly finding that place that would send you into bliss.

 _Deeper_.

Then an explosion, those minutes seemed to last for hours. Colors danced behind your closed eyelids and a chorus of sound escaped your lips, shuddering from your release, you sank further back into the bed.

John straightened himself up, hands grasping your hips as he pulled you closer, he was almost there.

“Come inside me John, please.” 

“ _Fuck._ ” Was all he managed as he tipped over the edge, body pulsing as he emptied inside you, hot liquid coating you inside. He was flushed as he pulled out, melting into the sheets beside you and heaving a sigh, his hand resting across your stomach gently while he looked at you.

He smiled, and it slowly turned into a laugh.

“What’s so funny?” You dipped an eyebrow, confused, and slightly concerned.

“I’ve been paying you to be here, and we just fucked.” John observed.

“So?”

He rolled onto his side, hands once again finding your hair and playing with it in his fingers, “So, I’m worried I may have unintentionally made you a sex worker.”

You thought for a moment, pouting before a grin spread across your face. “Then I’d like a rise, please.”

“Touché.” John smiled.

You laughed with him, cuddling into one another wordlessly until you both fell sound asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is it hot in here or...?
> 
> This chapter exists because I needed to give these two an excuse to just be close with one another without being goofy about it. I needed to do it for what's on the horizon with my ideas. Hope you liked the pure, unadulterated, wouldn't even pass on pornhub smut.

**Author's Note:**

> **Thank you for reading. I don't have a proofreader, so if there re any mistakes feel free to point out/I apologise!**


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